A Cookie and a Latte
by Vowen17
Summary: Its 6 yrs after the fall of Voldemort, and Draco is trying to get on with his life. He has a new job, an apartment and is finally being accepted by the people around him. But somethigs missing. A chance meeting will change his life forever. drarry.
1. Elusive Glance

**I know that there are loads of these Drarry fics as adults, so I'm going to make this a little different. How I don't know, but I will. :) Completely ignoring the 19 years later chapter because 1) another fic is in the pipeline where that is taken into account, 2) it didn't really fit with the plot I had for this. **

**Includes spoilers if you haven't watched Torchwood, Children of Earth (series three) but you probably know the main plot already!! I'm sorry, but since he was in Cardiff, I had to add a few Torchwood references, mostly for my sister Kanto. Love you!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Torchwood or Doctor Who, or any of the characters, with the exception of Dai Llewellyn, Mama Jean, Cassie and Mama Jean's bakery.**

**un-betad Im sorry!! tell me if you see any errors!!**

* * *

_Chapter One: Elusive glance_

Soft grey eyes slowly peeled open to glaring sunlight filtering through the emerald green curtains. He had forgotten to close them last night... again. Draco slowly lifted his head and squinted groggily at the bedside clock, which smugly told him it was eight o'clock. Letting out a groan he stretched himself into a sitting position, the room swimming about him slightly. Last night's clothes lay on the oak laminate, haphazardly discarded in Draco's haste to get into bed. The faint smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke still stuck to his golden, dishevelled hair and hung in the air like, well, a bad smell.

He wasn't a big drinker, but when the other boys in the department had asked him to join them on one of their famous 'Boys Night Out's, he couldn't really say no. Even now, six years after the fall of Voldemort, he was still treated with suspicion. The Veritaserum Trails, which had occurred as a product of the public's yearning for the truth, had given him the complete non-guilty status, clearing him of any wrong-doing but the opinions of many were deep-rooted and hard to change. So, when he was asked out for a drink, it wasn't just a mark of his fading 'Newbie' status (although he'd been there two and a half years), but a mark of the trust and acceptance that he'd gained. This acceptance was something that he craved for, and to decline the offer would send completely the wrong message. Besides, they weren't bad people; some were even pleasant, although there was the usual office weasel (which they had shaken off early in the night).

However, he was forced to accept that maybe it wasn't such a good idea on a night where he had work the following morning. Still, he wouldn't be alone; Harper and Sugden were on the same portkey as him today. Gradually he swung his unusually pale legs from underneath the silk sheets and stood, swinging his arms out to steady himself. He shuffled through the door-less partition of his apartment into the kitchen, pulling his boxer shorts from between his buttocks as he went. It felt as though the brilliant high-gloss white of the kitchen was repeatedly poking him in his still-tired eyes. With a lazy flick of his rosewood wand the toaster kicked into action, the bread mercifully already being in the machine. He had however forgotten to see to the coffee the night before, so he grabbed the jar of instant granules and spooned two teaspoons-worth into the mug, considered the jar for a moment and proceeded to add a further two. With another half hearted flick of his wand the butter flew from the black Smeg fridge and began to be spread on the toast.

He turned his unclothed back on his breakfast, not yet really feeling that he could fill his stomach without having it re-appearing a little later. He took his coffee and shuffled towards the closed balcony doors, looking out on early morning Exeter. It was then he saw the magnificent eagle owl perched on an empty flower-pot and looking rather displeased at having had to wait outside. Hurriedly, due to his experience with the Minister's personal owl, he opened the doors and proceeded to untie the unusually heavy envelope from the owl's leg. However, it seems that he was still too slow for the owl's liking, gaining him a hard nip on the finger. Cursing loudly at what he could see of the now vacating owl, his slender fingers broke the wax ministry seal and drew out a small blue piece of paper, the same type of blue paper that generally held an errand for him to attend too. Today was no different.

**Draco,**

**I've a few things to do this rather fine morning so I don't really need you in until half 11. But if you could do me a favour and pick up some cakes for that meeting with the muggle minister later. Mr Brown didn't seem to be too impressed by our wizard cakes last time. There's a fantastic bakery in Cardiff called Mama Jean's. Actually, could you grab me a coffee while you're there? I'll ****re-inberse**** you later.**

**Cheers, Dai**

**P.S. I've included a little pep-up for you; I thought you'd need it after last night. **

Draco would have smiled at the minister's thoughtfulness had he not been so annoyed by his lack of it. Could he not have informed him about that yesterday, allowing him an extra couple of hours sleep? Grudgingly he downed the small bottle of pink liquid, which tasted of peppermint and glooped rather than slid down his throat. Thoroughly annoyed, although no longer hung over, he set about breakfast and his daily pre-work rituals.

* * *

By the time Draco had eaten, showered dressed and meticulously styled his hair so it looked naturally tousled, it was half nine. Sighing, he adorned his black woollen coat but left it open, revealing the relatively tight deep grey jumper and pale blue shirt. In November, the underground ministry offices could be cold, despite the maintenance department's best efforts. He slid his wand into the silk lining of his coat, picked up his briefcase, locked his front door and turned on the spot.

After a second of great discomfort, Draco ended up on a wooden pier, with his back to a tall stone wall. He'd never been to Wales and since he had a few hours to kill, thought he may as well have a look around. He had heard the Minister fondly talk of Cardiff and his childhood on the Bay, so decided to take a look around. A cold wind from the sea bit at his exposed flesh and caused him to draw his coat closer around his body. To his right was a door, surrounded by windows covered with muggle newspaper clippings. The door however had a mesh over it, adorned with wilting flowers and laminated cards. A few coffee mugs lay near the base of the door filled with coffee beans and more flowers. A rather weathered tie was also tied onto the mesh, morosely flapping in the sea breeze. Draco's high polished shoes clicked on the wooden floorboards as he took a closer look at the newspaper clippings. One was about a woman called Harriet Harman, another about an explosion that had apparently occurred on that site just over a month ago. One short clipping mentioned a sighting of a blue telephone box (whatever that was) in a nearby city and another mentioned; Oh My God is that a giant blowfish!? Draco's mouth hung open as he studied the photo of a, for the lack of a better word, man with his head shaped like a blowfish driving a red sports car. Why hadn't the ministry heard of that, when it was such a blatant case of misuse of magic. And on display in a muggle area?! He'd have to mention that to Dai later.

He turned his back and walked down the boardwalk, up the stairs to a huge metal sculpture, with water running down the sides. Just opposite stood a magnificent building with a huge display of Welsh writing above the door. Between the two was a large group of people, muggles by the look of it, with a large selection of different objects, which were all pointing at a large blue box, out of which two people stepped out.

The smell of cooking drew him away from the scene and towards a group of small shops, only one of which were open yet. Draco happily sidled along, looking into the windows with interest. There was a bookstore, a jewellery store, a cafe and a sandwich bar. It was then that he saw him. A man, about the same age as Draco was one knee, tying the lace of a pair of worn out red Converse. He was wearing scruffy jeans and a black parka. His black hair came to just above the earlobe and stuck out in all directions. His fringe was being blown in front of his black, thick-framed glasses. Draco's breathing hitched for a second. Could it really be him? Just as he was about to speak, the man stood up and briskly walked away.

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**so what do you think? let me know!!!**


	2. Buried Past and Impossible Wishes

**Firstly, a huge thank you to everyone who sent me a reviews, they really made my day :) *hands out blueberry muffins* It'll be apple pie next time lol**

**If today was your last day- Nickelback**

**I only wanna be with you- Dusty Springfield**

**So, this is the second instalment, enjoy :)**

"usual format"- speech

"_**italics and bold**__"- thoughts_

"_Italics"- lyrics from a background song_

**Chapter Two: Buried Past and Impossible Wishes**

Harry really wasn't having the best of days. Firstly, he'd woken up late (only woke up at all due to a text message he'd received from his employer's daughter), and then he'd burnt his breakfast in his haste to get dressed. And then, while he was running to work, he fell over his shoes, resulting in his current position of flat on the pavement, with a large cut down his face. This was not going to be a good day. If he had the money he would have replaced those converse ages ago, but he found his meagre funds were being spent on more important things, like surviving. No matter how bad things got, he was unwilling to open the vaults in Gringotts, despite the mounds of gold in there. As soon as he entered the wizarding world, no matter how, word would get out and that was not something that he wanted.

Sighing, Harry slowly sat up and wiped the blood away from his face with the sleeve of his coat, his stubble catching on the fibres. Bollocks. Mamma Jean will have to sort it out when he gets to work. The strong breeze whipped his overgrown fringe in front of his (now scratched) glasses, preventing him from seeing the shoelace he was attempting to tie. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of platinum blonde and froze. A second passed before he relaxed and mentally scolded himself. For a moment, he had thought he had seen Draco Malfoy, but there is no way it could be him. What the hell would he be doing in Cardiff?!?! No, it was his old paranoia kicking in. He was so used to looking over his shoulder when he did something daft, pre-empting Malfoy's laughter and snide remark. It had always happed in... school. Still, the man had many of the same features as Malfoy, thought Harry, as he squinted at him through the mass of hair covering his eyes, while still attempting to remain subtle. It was then he remembered his timing situation, swiftly standing and breaking into a brisk walk.

But, through the twists and turns of the narrow alleyways that Harry had to take, the blonde man seemed to be following him. And, whoever he was, he seemed to be in as much of a hurry as Harry was. He followed him right up until the street where the bakery was situated, where he seemed to have gone his own way.

"_**That was weird". **_

Harry took one last look down the street for the blonde man and on not finding him, entered the shop. The smell of coffee and of baking cakes immediately engulfed him. Comfortable blue velvet chairs surrounded round, sturdy pine tables, stained to look like oak. The cream tiled floor glistened, complimenting the white wooden cladding covering half the walls, the top half was painted indigo. To the left of the shop was a large glass display case, usually filled with a huge variety of fresh cakes, all baked by Mamma Jean and her young apprentice/daughter Cassie. Said young apprentice was behind the wooden counter (decorated with the same cladding as the walls), singing loudly to the radio while cleaning the marble worktop. Harry smiled and headed to the coat stand by the door to remove his large and now rather dirty parka.

"_It's crazy but it trueeeeee... I only wanna be with youuuuu_... Oh! Hello Harry".

Cassie's pale skin turned pink at having been discovered unawares. Her long light brown hair was tied in a bun, with many strands making a bid for freedom. She was 19, kind and very perceptive, sometimes uncomfortably so. A purple checked shirt and jeans covered her petite but curvy frame, along with the waiter's apron tied around her waist. Long pale arms crossed over her chest as hazel eyes took in Harry's appearance critically.

"You haven't been awake long have you? It's a good job I sent you that text isn't it?" she smiled, "but what happened to your face?"

Harry, who had forgotten about his fall in the wake of the Malfoy look alike, winced as he touched the side of his face, it stinging slightly.

"Go get Mam to clean it up for you. I suppose you fell over your own feet?" she smiled as she went to take the first batch of cakes from the oven (muffins, cookies and a chocolate cake)

"Yeah, I suppose I'm just irrevocably clumsy". Harry tied the royal blue apron around his waist and put an order book and pen into the pocket. "I suppose I'd better sort out my face hadn't I?"

He opened the door which lead to the storage room, where he found Mamma Jean straining to reach a box on the top shelf. She was also a short woman, and Harry very often wondered how the two managed in the shop when he wasn't working. He rushed forward to grab the box, and smiled as he passed it to her.

"Mornin' boyo. It's about time you showed up" she smiled as she said it and spoke over Harry's attempts at explaining. "It's fine. Really. You've been ill; you're bound to still be a little groggy. But still, what the hell happened to your face?" Harry went over the story of his morning, without the blonde man, as Mamma Jean cleaned up his face. She didn't laugh, but tutted.

"You've gone and done this well!! Still, at least it will give the regulars more to fuss over!" The regulars in question were Mrs Bishop and Mrs Lloyd, who were lovely people; really they were, but their constant fussing over him, with things like "strapping young lad", "handsome boy" and "good catch" did sometimes get wearing.

"Right, get out and start serving customers. I would ask you to ice the cakes but after the disaster last time I think I'll give it a miss." She laughed as Harry blushed; remembering the icing nightmare that had occurred the first and last time he had tried. He walked to the counter, loaded the till and smiled.

* * *

"_**No way. That's too weird."**_

Draco was stood on the corner of the street, looking at the quaint decor of the cafe front the Harry-look-alike had just entered. 'Mamma Jean's Cafe' was emblazoned in white across the sparkling glass pane, and a blue and white striped canvas awning covered the chairs and tables outside. Could it really be possible that the Man-who-looks-like-Harry works in the very shop which he had been sent to? With few steadying breaths he approached the store, a bell ringing as he opened the door. Sure enough, the Man-who-looks-like-Harry was there behind the counter, handing a coffee to a balding man of about forty four. He's never been much of a believer in fate, but when things like this happen, it does shake his lack-of-faith a bit.

"Hello there, can I help you?" a short but portly lady had spoken, with a kind and aging face. Her shoulder length hair was dyed plum, and her hazel, pleasant eyes were hidden behind golden framed glasses, in turn fastened around her neck with a cord. She wore a pink t-shirt over a long and loose skirt printed with flowers. Small as she may be, she was the type of woman that would not fade into the background.

"Yes, could I have a box of your best cakes please? And," since Draco had just seen a young girl putting cookies into the display case, "a cookie and a latte please?" After all, he had time.

"Certainly Sir. Cassie, you heard him. Harry, take this gentleman's money." She smiled at Draco, completely oblivious to the cogs whirring in his mind. He sidled over to the counter, to a weary looking Harry.

"That'll be £9.75 please." Harry looked very suspiciously at Draco, inspecting his face for the first time, since he now had a reason. His skin was pale, but not unpleasantly so, and his eyes were grey, though not cold. His hair was blonde, but not as shockingly white as Harry remembered Malfoy's to be, and styled differently. The man was quite handsome, if Harry had felt that way about men; although, of course he didn't. Draco handed over a crisp ten pound (the minister has a habit of pulling stunts like this, so he had a stash of muggle money at the ready in his apartment).

"Can I ask you your surname Harry? You look very much like someone I went to school with." Harry's face went from cautious to shocked to furious in 0.5 seconds.

"Malfoy," he spat.

"Yes, I am Draco," he said, although he was well aware that it had been a statement and not a question. The truth was that he was a little hurt at the venom he was greeted with, even after all this time. He had not expected to be best friends, but he, well, he didn't know what he had expected, but it wasn't this level of hostility.

"How are you Harry?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Buying some cakes."

"Who sent you here?"

"My boss. He's partial to your cakes."

"Tell him I'm not interested and I'm not leaving here."

Harry was glowering at him over the counter, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. His hands were fisted over the money in his hand. Draco was speechless. The thought had never occurred to him. But, there was no way he was sent here for Harry, nobody knows where 'their hero' is.

"I wasn't sent here for you. I was sent here for your cakes. No one knows where you are. I must say, you've done a very good job at evading the ministry. They think you're in Scotland." He finished with a smile, and it was meant as a compliment, although Harry seemed to take it as a threat. His knuckles were turning white. Cassie was looking very concerned at the both of them, picking up on the fact that Harry would have punched him by now had he not been at work.

"_...if today was your last day, if tomorrow was to late _

_could you say goodbye to yesterday..."_

"Look", started Harry visibly shaking with anger

"No, YOU look." He quietly shouted, "This is just a coincidence, a large one I'll admit, but a coincidence none the less. I wasn't sent here to... kidnap you or anything." He took his volume down another level. "You wanted to leave our world behind, and I respect that, you seem... happy here. But you are not the only that has changed over time."

"_...what's worth the prise is always worth the fight_

_Every second counts coz there's no second try..."_

"You're not going to let this go are you?"

"Not a chance. You need to hear this. Why? Scared Potter?

"You wish"

"I'll have my change please." The look on Harry's face plainly said he would have preferred to give him pain than money.

Draco smiled, took his goods and nodded to Cassie on his way out.

* * *

The rest of Harry's day was spent in an uneasy sort of daze. He gave out the wrong order four times, spilt 2 cups of coffee and dropped a plate before Mamma Jean sent him home, thinking he was still sick. Neither he nor Cassie told her of the effect that Malfoy had had on him this morning, though Cassie kept shooting him concerned glances. So now he lay in his bed, with the curtains drawn to block out the world, with a pizza.

For so long now, his only link to the wizarding world was Hermione and the Weasley's, and that was rarer than he would have chosen. So for a wizard to turn up so unexpectedly, especially one so close to what happened; especially one that was on the other side, it completely unnerved him. He wasn't sure if he believed it was complete coincidence, but what else could he do? He had heard vaguely of what happened to Malfoy through Hermione and Ron, who had informed him of all the post-Voldemort developments, and he resented the fact that Malfoy, who was a death eater, and who had tried to kill Dumbledore, had got such an easy ride and was not in the public eye, whereas Harry couldn't move for the press people and paparazzi. The hype of the whole 'hero' thing had ruined the life he had built for himself, forcing him to rebuild yet another life in muggle circumstances. Yet Malfoy could waltz in and get a top job at the ministry?! How was that fair?! There was only one thing he was certain of right now; this was dredging up a past that he had done his best to bury, and he didn't like it.

* * *

Draco's day was a day of drudgery: taking notes, filling out forms, signing orders. In short: the usual. Harper and Sugden both looked very worse for wear, and were questioning him about why he didn't go with a girl that had been 'pawing over him' all night. The truth was that he'd never really been interested in having relationships. He guessed that he was just waiting for the right person. Of course, this instilled a few gay comments from the boys, but Draco had more on his mind; Harry to be precise.

Seeing Harry today was a big wake up for Draco, and seeing his reaction to him, he'd almost forgotten that used to be how he was treated. Harry was the only part of his past that had not changed, that he had not reconciled for. And, as he stood on his apartment balcony looking out onto the city, he made a pact to himself that he would visit Harry again to rectify that, and to put right the obvious misconception that he still had of Draco. And who knows, it may even turn into a friendship. Draco smiled and shook his head.

"_Don't wish for the impossible"_

* * *

**Tell me what you think! Thanks for taking the time to read ^^**


	3. Bright Ideas

Chapter 3

Mercifully, today was Draco's day off. Apart from the natural relief this gave, he was especially thankful. Sugden was still giving him hell for not getting with that girl a few nights ago. This was not a good thing as he had had a guy on his mind all the while. He had spent the past 3 days thinking up an action plan for how he was going to deal with Harry, specifically how he would speak to him and not get stabbed in the eye. So far, he had nothing. He couldn't casually bump into him, as he had no idea what Harry did, apart from where he worked, and to bring something like this into his workplace was not going to earn him any brownie points. The only conclusion he had come too was to spend as much time in Cardiff as he could possibly afford, for the faint hope of bumping into him, no matter how unlikely that is. Today was a nice day, well for November, so he decided to spend the day wandering around Cardiff shops. It was a vague hope, but it was also his only one.

However, after five hours of joylessness, even Draco had to admit he was really scraping the barrel for ideas, and his muggle finances. Draco had never been able to walk away from something he liked in a shop, and he found muggle fashions so fascinating. He had especially fallen for a shop called "Topman", with three of his bags from there alone. But the cold drizzle was dampening his spirits, and his aching feet begged him to go home. He has scoured the town centre and found nothing. Eventually Draco warily spun on the spot and went home.

Later that evening, after a hot shower, he found himself hungry. Unwillingly he pulled himself away from the sleek white leather sofa to the kitchen and pulled down a saucepan, a knife and some vegetables. Once in while he enjoyed cooking the muggle way and cautiously began peeling some potatoes. Today had been a failure, but, Draco decided he would not allow it to depress him. It was only his first attempt after all.

/

Rain hurled itself against the glass of Draco's window. Occasionally the sky flashed yellow as thunder echoed around the tall buildings. A shrill beeping filled the still air, quickly silenced by the hand that shot out from under the thick quilt. Slowly a mass of blonde hair emerged from underneath it, and eventually a pair of grey eyes opened. Today was unfortunately an early start. Dai had wanted Draco in the office early to prepare for a meeting with Jake McCarthy, the Head of the Department of Games and Sports. There was a problem with some friendly match which meant people wanted new laws passed, or something like that. Draco didn't really care for sport anymore. It only served to remind him of what a prat he'd been in school. But a job's a job, and the minutes must be taken, unfortunately. Deciding his body preferred being vertical he stumbled to prepare himself for the day ahead.

/

"That is not my point Jake," Dai wearily sighed. "I cannot afford the people power to put through a law, which really should be under your ruling. Maken cheatin' in a sporting event a criminal offence is a daft idea!"

"But you've seen the reaction of your people! There's outcry! You really would make your position a lot safer if you were to react favourably to the situation."

"What're you tryin' to say McCarthy?" the tips of Dai's ears began to turn red. Draco smirked; it reminded him of the Weasley boy in his class. His eyes wandered off with his mind, the conversation having lost his attention a while ago. Once again he found himself thinking about Harry. He had not yet had chance to go searching for him again, and with every day that passed the gravitas that his visit would carry was waning. He sighed and subconsciously glanced across the table at the Sports Minister's assistant. She was a leggy, pretty red head, with a very short skirt and very large breasts. Obviously chosen for her aesthetics more than ability as she had failed to pick up a quill the whole session. She looked at Draco from under heavily lined eyelids and smiled rather like one imagines a spider to a fly. Draco gave a start, put his eyes to the ceiling and rested his head against the high backed seats of Conference room 3. Everything in this room was large, including the table, designed for much more peopled meetings. It seemed highly disproportioned and the mostly empty space allowed the voices of the two men to echo angrily.

"For the last time, I will NOT make Felix Felicis illegal! It is ent my problem if you can't properly police your department!"

And then the penny dropped on Draco like a tonne of bricks. Felix Felicis! It was so obvious! Sure it would be a pain to make, but wasn't it worth it? Draco grinned as he stowed his quill and paper into his bag and followed the Minister's speedy exit.

/

Draco was still grinning as he exited the Apothecary in Diagon Alley that evening. With one more errand to run he swiftly put up his umbrella to guard himself from the onslaught of rain and headed towards Gringotts. Many people were rushing into doorways to shelter themselves. He took a minute to look into their faces. Nobody paid him any attention, further elevating his mood. No one paid him attention, meaning no one was casting him suspicious or hateful looks. He smiled even as he trod in an especially deep puddle. He heard giggle and glanced up. A brown and curly haired girl was clutching at the handle of an umbrella, with one hand on her enlarged stomach, laughing at her partner; a red head who was making faces at having to carry all the shopping bags and having half of his side get soaked. It was a second or two until Draco identified them as Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Sorry, Hermione Weasley. He remembered seeing the banns in the Daily Prophet some time ago. It was as he digested the fact she was now pregnant that Hermione saw him and smiled. She glowed. Even Ron, when he followed her eye line, didn't scowl, but gave a funny half-smile half grimace in his direction. Draco sent one back with an awkward nod of the head. If they weren't hostile towards Draco anymore, then why was Harry? He furrowed his eyebrows as he walked. It seems unlikely that he had cut himself off from them, his best friends, but, Draco supposed, it wasn't entirely impossible. He had seemed more than a little concerned about keeping his whereabouts hidden from the wizarding world. Draco sighed as he reached the bank doorway and looked down at his shopping bag. He would find out soon enough.

/

Harry sat clutching a cappuccino as Cassie sprinkled almost glutinous amounts of chocolate on the top. The rain was hammering against the shutters of the shop, making them grateful for the heat of an oven that's been working all day. She sunk down into the blue velvet seat with a sigh, pulling at her hair tie. Harry half ran a hand through his tousled hair and lent on the table.

"Manic today wasn' it?" ventured Cassie with a smile. "I guess people like 'aving somewhere to escape th' rain." Harry sighed and looked at her

"Yeah... yeah I guess they do."

A few more seconds of silence passed before Cassie leaned in, gently touching Harry's arm.

"You know, I'm 'ent stupid. I know sommats been botherin' you. Ever since that blonde showed up you've been in your own lil' world." She leaned back. "Wha' is he to you?" Harry smiled as he ran a finger around the froth of his coffee. How can he possibly describe it? But when he looked at her he was touched by the concern in her large eyes and sighed.

"It's... complicated. He... was in my class at school and well, we didn' get on too well. He... Ah he just brings back memories of a past I was trying to forget." He smiled at her in an unconvincing its-fine-really kind of way.

"Don' gimme that! There's more to it than a playground tiff, I know it. Why did you... I've never seen you with such hate in your eyes." Her eyes drifted to the empty cake case behind him. " I didn' think you _could_ hate tha' much. Harry hid his face from her as guilt and anger surged through his body. Why did he have to turn up like this? Cassie was playing with the hem of her lace top.

"I'm sorry. I know you're just concerned for me. But... I can't tell you why I reacted like I did. If I could, then I would do. But I don't think I can. Not right now." He knew he was fobbing her off, but how the hell could he tell her about what had happened? Unfortunately, so did Cassie. She looked at him and smiled sadly.

"Well, when you think you can tell me, I'll be 'ere for you, 'k?" and she got up and ruffled his hair on her way towards the stairs, leading to the flat her and Mamma Jean share.

"Oh here," she threw him the keys, "lock up when you're done. Just post 'em back through." And with an over the shoulder smile, she left.

Sighing, Harry took a gulp of coffee, poured it into a take-away cup and left, locking the door behind him.


End file.
